I'm Addicted to Lust
by R Coots
Summary: A few weeks post HHFYN, River and Riddick are still trying to get themselves back on an even keel. It's not working out so well. Riverick. Read and Review and I shall love you! M for language and sexy implications.
1. Chapter 1

I Must Confess

**Summary:** This a few weeks post Hide Hide Yourself for Now. If you haven't read it, that's ok. It's huge. To sum up: Riddick and River met. Bonded. Mind speak. He had Kyra's body with them and Blue Sun got a hold of it. In the course of trying to get her back before the scientists could figure out the Necromonger secrets, Riddick left River and got himself caught by Blue Sun. Which had cloned Kyra and dosed her copies with the Pax that made the Reavers. She then spent a great deal of time trying to simultaneously climb in Riddick's pants and kill him. He went slightly nuts. Thankfully, River was able to find him and pull him out of it. But he's still more than a little…broken. For more, hope down to the notes at the bottom.

~IMC~

Something was beeping. Quietly; but still loud enough to jar him out of a sound sleep. Riddick shifted slightly and felt the warm presence draped over him start to slide sideways.

Right. Chair. River.

Drooling River.

He held back a laugh as he tilted his head to look down at her. She had her hands curled up under her chest and was slumped over like a sack of flour. Her mouth hung half open, and he had a damp spot on his shoulder that he might actually let her think was something else entirely.

Not that she wouldn't figure it out pretty quickly. He wasn't much good at hiding his thoughts from her lately, even the simple little amusements like waking up to her drooling all over him in her sleep. Although he still hadn't told her that she snored sometimes. He was saving that for a rainy day. It was mildly surprising though, the fact that she hadn't woken already, what with him thinking of her and all. Like shouting in her face almost.

She murmured and shifted against him, almost losing her balance and falling off his lap. He caught her, feeling her ribs under his hand; the way they moved with her breath. He let his thumb graze the underside of her breast and felt the soft flesh through the fabric. The animal inside let out a satisfied purr, quietly rejoicing in the fact that she'd forgone a bra before she'd come up to the bridge the night before.

The man glared a warning at it, but the jaguar had already propped its chin on the knee of the girl sleeping among the roots of the huge jungle she'd planted in his mind. He'd wondered sometimes why it was always his mind that became the retreat, and why they didn't go to hers more often. The lake with its blue sky and hidden depths was about as close a place to peaceful as he'd ever imagined.

But it didn't matter really. She was there. In his mind. In his arms. Her scent up his nose and her heart beat in his ears. And it was more than he deserved. More than he could ever ask for, all things considered.

He still couldn't believe she'd taken him back.

He sat there for a moment. Letting his thoughts drift as his hands wandered down her sides and up her back. So tiny. So much life and vitality in such a small package. So much capacity for bloodshed and violence and beauty of a sort most people didn't understand.

And she'd taken him back.

The sudden rush of awe from both man and animal at the thought of her having given him a second chance was enough to rock him to the core. In this they were unified, and he almost lost his breath to the feeling. He almost crushed her. Almost wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life.

She muttered quietly and moved against him again and he became aware of the fact that his dick was hard as a rock and she was unconsciously grinding herself into it. He hadn't bothered to pull his pants back up the night before, and her panties were somewhere in a corner under the console. There'd been a rag, but that must have been lost as well, and her skin was warm and soft against his.

He bit back a groan and very carefully placed his hands on the arm rests. Squeezing the life out of her would be counterproductive. And picking her up and sliding her home along his length wasn't likely to win him any points either. She'd be tight and warm; but it was a rude way to wake up and likely painful on her end of things.

He was done hurting her. Anything more than their commonplace bickering and prodding was done. Off the table. It never should have been an option in the first place. He should never have done it. Never left like that. Should have trusted her and her ability to take care of herself; or to at least understand why he was the better choice to enter the Hell that the complex had become.

Visions rose in his mind's eye and he gripped the armrests harder as he tried to give them back to the animal. It was the keeper of his memories after all. It was the one who held them away from his conscious self.

But the animal had hidden in the cave and was just a set of gleaming eyes and snarling noises as it tried to get away. Tried to avoid remembering what it had wrought down in that complex. He couldn't get it to come out, and the man couldn't deal. Couldn't shove it back. The bloodlust. The rage. The bone deep hurt of what he'd done. They were burning out his brain, and the fire was sucking all the rest of his thought processes with it. He should be moving. He should be killing something. There was something he needed to guard and people trying to get to it. They couldn't be allowed. Couldn't come any closer.

Soft lips pressed against the underside of his jaw. Apples and rain, cool water and traces of vanilla swam up his nose as a set of hands slid up his chest to rest along the back of his neck. A trickle of water ran through his head, and then built until it was a flood.

The stream by the tree. It was rising, drowning out the fears of the man and the rage of the animal. Not a rushing torrent, but a deep calm river, still on the surface and implacable beneath. The current carried the panic away, and something in his chest loosened. The memories sank back where they belonged, and the inferno that had been building inside damped back down to a glowing bed of coals.

He looked down and met her dark eyes. Saw the half smile she gave him before she turned her face from his and started to nibble at his collarbone. Felt her consciousness against his as she coaxed the animal, the jaguar, from its cave. Felt a different sort of heat build inside as the weapon pinned the still stunned man and forced him to breathe slower.

In.

Out.

He dropped his head to the base of her neck and worried it gently with his teeth as his hands came to rest on her ass, cupping it and drawing her closer. His fingers kneaded at the muscle, and she mewled in his ear before squirming her way to her knees. He didn't want to let her. Not that having his face pressed into her breasts wasn't a good thing. They were all soft and warm and smelled of her; but he wanted to pull her back down. Drive her home along his length and be back where he belonged.

River had other ideas. She'd managed to get herself braced, and was holding his face between her hands. Her eyes were serious, although her mouth was twitching suspiciously. ::Stupid,:: she said. ::He _is_ home. _Is_ where he belongs.::

He growled at her, and gave her ass an extra hard squeeze. She gasped and wriggled and came in range of his teeth. A yip this time; as he closed his mouth around a nipple hardened enough to push at the fabric covering it and bit.

The banging of a fist on a metal door interrupted what was about to turn into yet another in a long series of small arguments as to who was going to have their way. It was a foregone conclusion. She was fucking _sitting_ on him after all.

"Hey!" Mal's voice was muffled, but he could hear the frustration in it well enough. "Either you two open this door and prove you're bring'n this ship into the skyplex in one piece or get the hell back to the shuttle so I can do it myself!"

River dissolved in giggles, curling over in place and near smothering Riddick as she ended up wrapped around his head.

Suffocating in breasts wasn't a bad way to go actually. And it distracted him from the sudden urge to throw something at the hatch. Preferably just as Mal tripped the lock on the other side. That'd be nice. Knife to the shoulder, or the gut. Or fuck, even the throat. He couldn't yell at them with six inches of steel in his trachea.

"You got to the count of five, an' then I'm comin' in there. Riddick, don't make me shoot you!"

River choked and gasped with laughter. Riddick grumbled to himself and reached for the coffee cup sitting on the console. He'd left his belt on the floor, along with most of his weapons, and the one tucked in his boot was a little hard to get to at the moment. The mug would have to do. Too bad the contents were cold.

River let go of his head and landed hard in his lap. He grunted at the impact and glared down at her, but she'd scooted backwards and was tugging insistently at the belt loops of his pants. In the wrong direction of where he wished they would go. He kept his ass in place and refused to let her pull them back up.

"Stay away," she yelled, as the locks on the other side of the door started clanking. In his head, she grumbled. ::Said you would take care of docking. Really think it's possible with the girl in his lap?::

He snarled and yanked her closer, one hand at the small of her back and pressing her hips to the length of his dick. Vanilla was rampant in the air, along with spiced musk and the leftovers of their exertions the night before. ::You think I couldn't manage it?::

Steel entered the mix, and she punched him in the ribs. He had half a second to wonder why she was suddenly so pissed before she grabbed his dick in one hand and cupped his balls in the other. Her thumb found the divot just under the tip and he bit down a groan. Why the fuck was she fucking teasing him like this? And why the hell wasn't she letting him pull her closer again?

Oh.

The man supplied the answer. The animal was too interested in trying to get to the girl in the upper branches of the tree. A perfect example of just how split he'd be if he tried to match a ship with a space station while having most of his attention on the fact that her cunt was pressing up against him and leaking vanilla scented heaven all over him. They'd probably crash and die and he and River would be the only ones who knew why. Not to mention the implied insult of him even being _able_ to divide his attention between the girl and his job.

She sat back and crossed her arms as the realization hit him, and he growled at her for form's sake before tipping his head back to glare at Mal as the hatch doors started to slide open. "Get the hell out Mal," he snarled. "'M already fucking awake."

Mal did not get out. He was turning colors, and embarrassed anger was starting float its way over to the co-pilots chair. "You gonna dock this thing or not?"

Throwing the coffee cup sounded like a better and better idea every time he thought of it. "What do you fucking think," he growled instead. "Think I slept up here for the fucking fun of it? How old are these fucking chairs anyways?"

Mal shook his head and turned to go. "Just don't crash us. Don't have the money to pay for repairs. 'An Kaylee's lookin' for ya. Said somethin' about needin' parts."

He'd left the hatch open, and Riddick could hear Inara speaking softly in the galley, the clomp of Jaynes boots down towards the engine room, and the pat pat of Sierra's bare feet as she came up the stairs. Cursing to himself and at the girl giggling in his head, he shoved River backwards and off his legs, then yanked up his pants. Last thing they needed was Zoe out for blood because the kid had seen things she probably shouldn't for another ten years or so. And that wasn't counting the sheer annoyance factor of the inevitable stream of questions.

If only she had any survival instincts to go with all that curiosity.

River, pleased that she'd made her point about divided attention and his likeliness of docking the ship with her as the ultimate distraction in his lap, bent over to grab his belt and its assorted attached weaponry. That earned her a hand on the ass and a squeeze as she stood. It wasn't one of his smartest ideas ever. She came up swinging.

He ducked the hilt of one of the blades before it could impact with his skull, and snatched the belt out of her hands, but couldn't avoid the next attack. A kiss, right on the lips; and she was gone before he could reach for her again.

The alarm beeped again, and he looked out the forward viewports at the floating monstrosity that was the skyplex, all hung over with neon signs and ships attached to it like bizarre fruit. He winced at the lights of the thing, even though they were far enough out that they weren't about to burn his eyes out of his sockets. Yet.

River grabbed the coffee cup from the console as he stood and got his belt settled around his hips. ::She goes to find breakfast,:: she said, eyeing the erection that was making itself known through his pants, and he growled at her and reached for her. She didn't try very hard to get away, and he caught her by the elbow.

::Could still just say fuck it and let Mal do this,:: he groused, and tried to push back the animal so it wouldn't make him twist her arm and force her to stay. She was just going to the galley. Not out of earshot. Not even out of sight really. He could see Kaylee setting the table from here. She wasn't going forever. Not even long enough to grab a bite for herself. Never mind the fact that she smelled more of arousal than the sharp tang of hunger.

The animal wasn't listening, probably because the man wasn't putting a whole lot of effort into the arguments. He wanted to go with her. Grab some coffee, maybe a little food, and haul her off to the shuttle. Much better that way. Better to not let her get more than arm's length away from him. Who knew if she'd ever come back? What if she realized what a fucking stupid idea it had been, coming down to the complex and pulling him out of Hell?

Vanilla. Steel and cool water. He realized he'd pinned her up against the bulkhead next to the hatch. Her legs were around his waist, his hands back around that soft sweet ass as he held her in place, and his face was buried in her neck. His heart was hammering like a drum, and he couldn't tell if it was his breath or hers echoing in his ears.

Some conscious part of his mind roared at him to pull his shit together and stop letting instinct take complete control. He'd never been like this after the Howling Planet. Stunned, yes. Amazed at what he could accomplish when he really put his mind to it. Or let his mind go. However you wanted to look at it. But he'd been more concerned with figuring out who and what he was to worry about three hundred some odd men who'd gone from lives of bloodshed and mayhem straight into a bloody end. Sure he'd had more of a temper, until he got the animal figured out, but it wasn't like he'd really _cared_ what those around him thought.

Not like now.

Hands buried themselves in the fur at the base of the jaguar's neck, and the girl laid herself over it, radiating comfort and calm and the assurance that she would be back. She would. Was she trying to convince herself too? Because the weapon had the man in a headlock, and her promises were a bit more…forceful. She still wasn't impressed with the stunt he'd pulled, and he knew that she was the one who would have left him to rot there if it hadn't been for-

His mind shied away from the memories. The animal snarled and the man went looking for something to swing at. But he had only himself to blame and he knew it. Fucking moron. That's what he was.

She kissed him gently, and squirmed free of his hold, but didn't try and get out from between him and the wall. ::She will be back,:: she said quietly, as the alarm beeped again. ::And you must dock the ship, or it won't matter anyways.:: Her eyes were bright as she stared up at him through her lashes, and he was so distracted by how she was worrying her lips between her teeth he almost didn't catch her words.

She wasn't arguing with him about his monumental stupidity for having done what he did. He didn't know if that made things better or worse.

::Bonded,:: she said a little more firmly, and the girl took the ears of the jaguar and shook its head while she ran a finger up alongside the scar on his inner arm. ::Stupid to think she _wouldn't_ come back for him. She can't stay away either.::

And then she slipped out of the bridge and down the hall, leaving only the girl wrapped around the animal and the weapon holding the man in place to keep him from going after her.

Fuck it all anyways.

~IMC~

True to her word, River wasn't gone long, and she ran interference for him with docking control while he maneuvered the ship into place. He had started out talking to them, but his ability to speak Chinese at the moment was more than a little hindered by the fact that every other word came out as a growl. The man said there was something seriously wrong. The animal wrapped itself tighter around the girl and ignored him. The weapon had thrown her hands up and gone back to her home in the stream.

She probably had the right of it.

A thud and a bump and a few choice words from Kaylee later and he had the ship locked in place. He'd slipped his goggles back on so he could deal with the artificial glare of the station's lights, and even through those his eyes burned. Good thing he wasn't stuck here babysitting the helm while everyone else went off and got their business done inside. He was looking forward to dragging River back to their shuttle and finishing what they'd started before Mal stuck his nose in. And then starting something more.

She was shaking her head at him though, and the scent of warm vanilla in the air became laced with wet earth. He had half a minute to frown at her and try and figure out what she thought was so wrong with his plan before he heard boots clomping unevenly through the hall behind them. Shaking off the unease that still came every time River pulled one of her 'find out for yourself' stunts, he turned to watch Kaylee wobbling her way towards them. She had a bundle of canvas under one arm, and a determined look on her face. Behind her was Inara, a hand over her mouth and her eyes dancing.

Oh fucking hell.

None of the crew had really forgiven him. Not that he blamed them. He wasn't asking forgiveness. Didn't deserve it really. He had a set of twin scars on his inner arms that told him everything he needed to know about why they tolerated him being back on board. It was the same reason he had for putting up with the looks, the tools thrown in his direction, and Sierra's new habit of trying to kick him in the shin.

River snorted out a laugh and ran her hands up his back as she came to stand beside him. ::Like it or not,:: she said. ::You're family now.::

It still felt fucking weird when she said stuff like that. Weirder to think that it might be true.

He didn't have any time to protest, because by that point Kaylee had arrived in the bridge. She heaved the pile of canvas towards him, and he caught it against his chest. The stuff smelled of engine oil and the sweet fermentation that marked her pregnancy. He snorted to clear the odd mix from his nose. "What the fuck Kaylee," he groused at her.

"Part stores are low," she crossed her arms and huffed at him. "We need ta go stock up while we can. Cause sooner or later, one of those fancy new pieces is going to bust and who _knows_ when we'll get to replace it."

He tore his eyes from her bulging stomach and the tiny heartbeat layered under her louder one and raised his eyebrows at her. "And what the fuck does that have to do with me?"

Kaylee threw her hands in the air and tried to stomp her foot. It didn't work very well, and Inara was biting her lip on a grin as she helped her younger friend catch her balance.

"I need someone ta help," the mechanic said when she was back on her feet. "Jayne's got ta go get ammo. Cap'n needs ta go get post arranged. And Simon an' Inara are seein' ta supplies for the infirmary! I can't carry ever'thin' myself! Not like this!" She waved her hands at her distended belly, and he was surprised to see that there were _tears_ in her eyes. What the hell?

Jayne's head popped around the door and he was grinning like a loon. "Best not ta fight it Riddick. Ain't you learned yet? Ya don't argue with the women on this boat. 'Specially not the pregnant ones."

Laughter. He was besieged by it. Kaylee was laughing through her tears and River's amusement rolled through his mind like a small earthquake. Inara had the decency to cover her grin, but her eyes were still dancing and he was pretty sure she was biting her hand to hold in the chuckles.

"Fine," he grumped as he tried to sort out what had ended up being canvas bags. "So you need River and I to come with you?"

"Just you," Inara said. "I need River to come with me. Zoe got rid of most of Sierra's baby things after a colony of mice snuck aboard and got into the clothes. So she's going to be finding some replacements for Kaylee, and she'll need River's help to tell which vendors are worth buying from."

~IMC~

And that was how he found himself standing in the middle of a junk heap two hours later, holding open a canvas bag while Kaylee sorted through the piles of assorted parts and bits of scrap metal for anything she could use. The place stank of oil, dirt and rust; and he was pretty sure they'd all conspired against him in planning this fuck up of a day.

He'd kept up a steady stream of grumbling in his head, shoving it all in River's direction just to let her know how _not_ happy he was that he'd gotten stuck playing pack mule instead of holing up in their shuttle like he'd wanted.

Or fuck, they wouldn't have even needed to hole up. Ship to themselves, no prying eyes or knowing looks. The animal had all sorts of ideas about what they could have done, and where they could have done it. That precious chair of Mal's for one. The common room. Hell, they could have gone and desecrated Jayne's weight bench and had a laugh about his not knowing.

But no. Instead, he was here. The animal was about to claw its way out of his skin, and if that fucking moron who called himself the manager poked his head around that stack of old engine blocks one more time, he was going to fucking _kill_ him. Whether it was for the oily way he kept staring at Kaylee, the reek of greed that wafted over, or just for living and breathing and slowing down the process, Riddick didn't care. And if Kaylee didn't stop finding new and more 'shiny' things that she absolutely had to have, he was going to leave her with the bag and let her figure out how to get it back to the ship herself.

River yanked the stream up over his head again, and a little of the frustration and rage washed away with the waters, but it wasn't good enough. He wanted apples and rain dammit. Skin beneath his hands and her laugh in his ears. Barring that, he'd take a punch to the gut and steel and charcoal, or cool water and witch-hazel.

A sharp snapping noise brought him out of his internal war, and he blinked down at Kaylee. She was frowning at him, one hand up and about to snap her fingers again. He swallowed down the snarl, but it rumbled through his chest as a low growl instead. Unease curled through the air, and he savored the scent of it. Good. So she had that much sense at least. But did she realize how fucking _stupid _it was to snap her fingers at him like he was some sort of dog?

He'd dropped a hand to the hilt of one of his blades before he knew what he was doing; and even had it partly out of its sheath before the man could muscle down the animal's knee jerk reaction and the girl could get herself wrapped around it. It quieted somewhat, from hissing and snarling to merely growling as slim fingers worked their way through thick fur and the girl laid her cheek to its jaw. The weapon was watching with assessing eyes from her place by the stream, and he had the sudden urge to try and prove to her that he was better than this. That _they_ were better than this.

"Riddick, you in there?" Kaylee was frowning at him, trying to cover her nerves with puzzlement.

He grunted in reply and looked down at the canvas sack in his hands, trying to deny the realization that he'd almost drawn steel on a pregnant woman with less ability to defend herself than a babe in arms. What the fucking hell was _wrong_ with him?

Evidently she'd decided he was safe enough, because she caught him by the elbow and started pulling him in the direction of the entrance to this particular shithole. "C'mon. Got what we came for. Should get back ta _Serenity_ and start gettin' stuff squared away. Would ya grab that?" She was pointing at the other bag, already full and sitting at the head of the trail back through the mountains of junk. She didn't wait to see if he was going to listen, and let go of his elbow to start picking her wobbly way through the wreckage.

Riddick made sure the two bags were tied shut and slung them over his shoulders. They weren't power cells or any number of other bits of heavy shit he'd had to cart around in the course of his life. But there were angles and jagged edges and it just pissed him off more, having to deal with that fucking crap digging into his back.

But being pissed kept him from thinking on how close he'd come to hurting the young woman in front of him. Or on the fact that he didn't just want River's soothing presence in his mind reminding him that he'd managed to stop himself. He wanted the girl. The woman who would give as good as she got and he never had to worry about losing his temper around her because she'd lose hers just as often.

He wanted to be back with his fucking match, and at this point he was about ready to drop the bags of parts and just take off.

In his head the girl wiggled closer to the animal and the weapon came to sit by the man. The stream gurgled in its banks, and he felt the promise she was making without speaking. Soon. Soon enough. Open your eyes though. You're her only defense and this is a bad part of town.

He blinked. Kaylee had gotten further ahead of him somehow, and the manager of the junk heap was standing between them and the exit. He could hear the crash and clamor of the inner halls of the space station, and saw flashes of what he knew must be neon signs. But his attention was caught by the fact that the junkman had cronies, and they were standing or leaning against the wall and heaps of rubbish in a rough semicircle around the mechanic.

She had a hand in her pocket, another holding a pouch of coin, and was arguing with the manager. Something about payment and a scale and fairness. He could see it though, exactly how this was going to go down, and it wasn't going to end with her forking over any of the cash Mal had given her. The men were already standing upright, closing in around her, cutting him off. Did they think he'd go along with it? Or did they think he'd want to join in?

It didn't matter. Kaylee'd seen the trap and was twitching like a bird as she tried to keep an eye on the men around her. The manager stepped closer, and reached to ghost a hand over her swollen stomach. His words were mostly Chinese, but Riddick could catch the gist from the English phrases. Pregnant women must be all sorts of hot. He ain't never had himself one. What do ya think boys?

Kaylee froze, and he could smell the lemon of her fear as it roiled though the air, cutting past the lust and desire of the men and even through the stench of the crap around them. She was fumbling for her pocket and looking for a way out. But she was surrounded and off balance and there wasn't any way out.

Except they'd all forgotten about him.

Finally. Someone he could sink a blade into who deserved it. Finally. People that no one would miss and a reason to take them out. The animal roared as it pulled free of the waif in his mind and the man fell back as the blades became claws and his lips peeled back from his teeth. Fucking pieces of shit. Think they'd take what wasn't theirs? Think they'd stand between him and home?

He'd fucking show them why you didn't ignore the animal in your midst.

He managed not to snarl as he slipped down the path. Kaylee'd been backed into one of the men, and he had her by the shoulders while the boss started undoing the hooks of her suspendered overalls. He blocked out her whimper of surprise, ignored the struggle she was putting up, and took the last step needed to bring him in range.

Sweet spot.

Blood. Coppery and warm. It set his senses on fire and made the animal rumble in satisfaction.

He kept going. The first man was still falling as he reached for the second and buried the blade in his gut, tearing a good sized hole as he pulled free and turned to meet the surprised face of a third. A slash to the throat and that one was down.

That left the boss, and the man was scrambling to retreat from the man shaped beast in front of him. Riddick didn't give him time to gain his footing; but the weasel was quicker than his bulk would suggest, and he'd ducked around the stab to the chest and caught hold of Kaylee's shoulder before Riddick could stop him. One arm around the young woman's throat, another holding a pistol to her head, he tried to back up. He was babbling, disjointed Chinese mixing with English into gibberish, but the animal could have cared less about translating. It was awake. It was _alive_. And it wanted blood. This man's blood.

The man may have been quick for a tub of lard, but he didn't have anything on an enraged Furyan. Riddick slapped the gun hand away from Kaylee's head with his free hand and drove the tip of his blade into the fucker's temple with the other. He felt her belly bump against him as he sandwiched her in between himself and his target, and it was almost enough to distract him from the song of blood and the lives he'd just ended.

The jolt of crackling power that stunned him and sent his body rigid did a far better job.

In his head the waif screamed in alarm. The weapon lunged to catch the animal before it lost its mind entirely. In the physical, he staggered, unable to feel his feet or his hands and knowing only he wasn't the source of the charge. Kaylee lost her balance as he stumbled against her, and she went down on her ass with a thud. The feeling of being electrocuted vanished, and he caught himself before he landed on the young woman. His body wasn't obeying him so well, and his balls felt like they'd been kicked up into his teeth. Along with every organ in between.

"What the fuck," he gritted out. The animal was thrashing, looking for someone else to kill. Whoever had hit him with that was about to die a slow and painful death and he didn't care if he came out of the job looking like he'd bathed in blood.

The girl had latched onto it though, and the weapon was helping the man to his feet. Just in time to keep him from doing just about the worst thing he could have done at the moment. Kaylee was staring up at him, eyes huge and frightened. Both arms were wrapped around her belly, and in one hand she was clutching what he would have sworn was a-But where the fuck had she gotten it?

"Kaylee," he croaked, when he thought the animal was distracted enough by River's humming. "Did you just fucking _tase_ me?"

Her mouth flopped open. And shut. Then open again. "Yes?" Her voice was small, and her fear still rampant in the air. He didn't blame her.

"Where the fuck did you…" He didn't trust himself to finish the sentence. He didn't have time anyways. She'd landed in a puddle of blood and the smell of it was making it hard to keep the man at the controls.

"Oh," she looked down at the thing, and then yanked it away from her belly like it might come alive and eat her baby. Which, all things considered, was a valid concern. "I made it."

That did it. That fucking did it. Of all the insane things he'd dealt with today, that took the cake. Trust _her_ to have made a taser that damn near knocked him out. He didn't even want to know how she'd managed it. He didn't want to know why she'd had it so deep in her pocket that she couldn't get it out right away and use it on the bastard who'd been looking to rape her.

Of course, if he was any judge of things, it probably would have killed the man.

Best not to tell her that though.

He laughed. It was the only thing he could do under the circumstances. The fear faded a bit from the woman in front of him, and she took his hand when he held it out to her. Heaving her upright, he listened for the tiny heartbeat she carried, figured it sounded normal enough, and shook his head. "I don't even fucking want to know," he said between chuckles as he went to get the bags of junk. "Just don't make it so hard to get to from now on. Better you hit them before I could." He toed an arm out of the way and put his free hand to the small of her back to get her moving. "Less mess."

~IMC~

They made it back to the ship with a minimum of fuss, and Riddick spent most of the trip scanning the crowd for badges. His humor hadn't lasted long, and the smell of the blood on his hands and Kaylee's clothes was a siren call to the animal. Wherever River was, she'd probably gotten Zoe to either hurry things along or abandoned the first mate entirely. She was wrapped around the beast, anchoring it to the ground and keeping the waters of the stream high. Bloodlust built, was washed away, replaced with a desire to have her under, around, and over him again, and was not appeased by her promises of ::Soon.::

He was growling again as he stalked up the ramp, and Kaylee was shooting looks at him over her shoulder. Her overalls hung loose enough that the blood didn't make them cling to her legs, and she was so shook up by the near rape that she hadn't made any sort of connections yet. So he'd been keeping her in the shadows, standing between her and the people and pretty much herding her the way a sheepdog might, minus the nips to the ankles. The waif giggled at his mental comparison, and he snorted in reply.

Simon and Inara had gotten there ahead of them, and Kaylee was just starting to smell of shock as they made it up the ramp. Home and safety, he guessed. Now that she was here, she could collapse. Simon's eyes went wide at the sight of them, and he started forward just in time to catch his wife as she wobbled to a stop and realized she was covered in blood.

Riddick ignored them, dumping the bags full of parts just inside the entry and turning his head as he caught a fresh draft of apples and rain. Home. Where the girl was.

The animal settled slightly, and then lurched back to attention as he saw River slip through the hatch at the rear of the bay and start to ghost over to him. Pale skin, dark dress. Hair a cloud around her face. Her lips were twitching, but she was quiet in his mind and he couldn't figure out if it was humor or something else.

One way to find out though.

He met her halfway, slid one hand through her hair to cup the back of her head, and buried his face in her neck. Apples. Rain. Residual hints of citrus. Worry? It didn't matter. It was her, real and in the flesh and that was what was bringing the animal down from its state of battle readiness. Into a different sort of readiness, true; but not the need to kill and kill and kill that he'd been feeling ever since he left the ship a few hours ago.

Vanilla mixed with musk, and her mind coiled more tightly around his as her hands came to rest on his hips. Simon was yelling at him, trying to get an explanation. Kaylee sounded much less angry as she snapped at her husband. He smelled incense and knew that Inara was somewhere nearby, but she hadn't said anything and that was all for the better.

Mal could take this thing back out to the Black on his own. He had plans, and they involved not stopping till he'd examined every inch of River's body. Tasted every inch of her skin. And then gone over her again, just to be sure she was real.

Still ignoring the Doctor sputtering behind him, he slung an arm over River's shoulder and headed for the stairs.

**Author's Note: ** So. Fun huh? Not really the true sequel to HHYFN, I still wanted to deal with the aftermath of the events of the Blue Sun complex. Because when we'd left them, Riddick and River had rebonded and rejoined the crew of _Serenity. _ But some people asked (rightly) what's left for them to go on with? Their relationship was so damaged by him leaving, and he was so damaged after he went loony toons down there in the complex. Things just don't go back to being hunky dory.

So this is how they, and Riddick in particular, find their way back to whatever passes for normality in their heads. I hope you enjoy. Please please tell me what you think. I love to hear from people!

I don't own them BTW. Not mine /sadface

Scent Key:

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades


	2. Chapter 2

Not Strong Enough

Wild eyes, mad with rage and desire. They burned in sunken pits. Dark hair; snarled and matted with blood and made long by forced growth. It flew and haloed around her head, framing a face pale and bloodied at the mouth. Fingers crooked into claws and reached, and there was only one goal in that mind.

Kill. Eat. Take that which they could not have, _because_ they could not have it. Take the one who was supposed to be theirs and _make_ him theirs. Touch him, to prove he was real. Devour him, to make him part of themselves. Keep him from the other. From the one he dreamed of, wished for. She wasn't them. Would never be them. Keep him from her, because he hurt and that could not be allowed to stop.

Screams from broken throats. Tongues that had never spoken words. They were like knives against the mind, demands that could not be met. They'd stand in the way, these sister creatures. Stand and always stand. They were the ones who wouldn't lie down. Bodies fallen, destroyed, mutilated; it wouldn't matter. They'd been planted there like scarecrows by the cold hands of Death and the Blue Sun. She needed to get past them. Needed to make it through the fence, the levy, the wall. He was there. On the other side. Somewhere. And she could not live without him.

One of the scarecrow creatures raised her bloodied head and screeched as she started clawing her way free of the post she'd been mounted on.

River came to gasping wakefulness, shuddering with horror and fear. Her hands were twitching, scrabbling like convulsive little spiders along the arms he hand around her. She burned from the inside out, and all she wanted to do was prove that she wasn't asleep. This wasn't a dream. He was really there. Really holding her.

She clutched his arm tighter around her waist as her mind burrowed deeper into his. It was a reflexive action, and she almost felt guilty for it. He was bound to wake. And if the dream hadn't been his…

His hand shifted on her hip and in her head the jaguar nosed at the girl where she huddled against its side. The weapon was nowhere to be found, but the man crouched next to the waif and ran his palm up her back. Warm lips brushed along her ear.

River twisted in his grasp, turning herself around till she was flush against him and could bury her face in the base of his neck. Her nose wasn't as good as his. Couldn't smell emotions. But she could feel his residual anguish, now that they were both awake and she could tell their minds apart. She could feel the need he'd had, trying to cut his way past that fence of creatures to get to her.

She could also feel his penis, pressing against her hip with an insistence that could not be denied. And that was ok. She had no intention of denying it. She needed it. Wanted it. It was the final proof. The reality. He was here. Not in a concrete maze under a valley filled with more horror than could ever be imagined. He was here, on _Serenity_. In the shuttle with her. In her arms.

He still hadn't spoken, but she could feel his intent. The answering call of his mind and the rush of full wakefulness as her hips twitched and ground against his. He came even more alive as she mewled and hooked her elbows over his shoulders so she could haul herself further up. She was burning with the need to prove he was still real, warm and ready and wet in record time.

His lips traced the line of her neck as he helped her pull herself up his body. There was a rumble building in his chest, and she wanted to feel it through her bones, from the inside out. She hitched one leg up over his hip, feeling the heat between her thighs calling for him, and the wetness down there increased slightly. His lips caught hers as he pressed the length of his shaft to her center, and she moaned into his mouth. This was right. This was where she belonged. Where _he_ belonged. He was real and so was she and she wasn't ever letting him pull a _ta ma de_ stunt like that again.

The jaguar nipped at her and the man rumbled out a chuckle equal parts agreement and frustration. He had no intention of ever losing her like that again. No intention of being so much of an idiot the he thought he could protect her by hanging her out to dry. Twice now he'd tried that with people he cared about. Twice now it'd come up and bitten him in the ass. He wasn't giving it a third chance.

She whimpered agreement as she bit his bottom lip and pulled, grinding her hips against his again and wishing he'd just enter her already. She was wetter than she could remember for so early in the morning, and her whole being cried out to have him in her. Moving, pounding, coming like an explosion.

She was half melted into the jaguar, so she caught it less than a microsecond after he did. Blood. Old and dead. Dull copper mixed with bodily fluids.

By the banks of the stream, the weapon laughed. It was a nasty sound that grated through their joined minds and doused the fires in her body so fast it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from her being.

River froze, mind churning. The girl was wailing a denial and the man snarled in impotent fury. The animal was roaring, looking for whatever it was it needed to kill so things could go back to normal. So it could go back to what they'd been doing before she'd gone stiff as a board in their arms.

But they couldn't kill this. It was biology. It was as inevitable as the sun rising on a planet.

All she could think was that she didn't want war. Couldn't handle it again. Couldn't do that, not now. Maybe not ever again. The first one had been her own fault. Sheer torture born out of a moment of flippant challenge. The second had almost been worse, what with him gone and the weapon and girl tearing themselves apart to try and find him again. She couldn't do a third one. Couldn't have another struggle for supremacy so soon after having gotten him back again.

She could feel him in her mind. The man muscling down the animal. He managed it, but only barely, and it was all she could do not to whimper and squirm deeper into his arms and wake the jaguar all over again. She should have known. Should have remembered this would happen.

But they'd both been drifting. Floating in a weeks long sea of euphoria and just being grateful to have a home and each other and even the grudging acceptance of the crew. They'd forgotten what was coming. Hadn't prepared at all.

_"Jen dao mei_," she muttered as she pulled her leg back down and started inching backwards. His hands tightened on her waist and she felt one last burst of desire burn its way down the bond before the man got the animal back under control. He was almost panting with the effort of it, and she wrapped her mind a little more firmly around his before slipping from his hold and out from under the blankets that covered them. She didn't want to leave any more than he wanted her to go, but this needed to be taken care of.

"Does it," he rumbled out the question as she started digging in her things for clean underwear and the little box of necessities that always managed to get lost in the interim between menstruations. He'd sat up in bed and was watching her, telling himself that he could manage seeing her naked and glorious and two meters away and not _need_ to be touching her. The weapon snorted her skepticism and crossed her arms where she sat half in, half out of the stream. The girl merely burrowed deeper into the animal's warmth.

"Yes," she told him. Tucking her things under one arm, she turned to lay her hand on his chest before he could pin her up against the dresser. He moved _fast_, but she met and matched him and always would. "Disadvantage of waking space travel," she said, and pulled her hand back before it could start tracing the definition of the muscles that made up his torso.

He caught it and held it against his chest as he pressed closer, backing her up one slow step at a time. She could smell herself through his nose. Vanilla. Apples and rain. But the old blood was an uncomfortable itch in her mind, and she shied away from it.

"Told you before." He had one hand on her hip, long fingers splayed around to trace patterns along her buttocks and lower back. "Blood don't bother me."

He was dipping his head to her neck, inhaling deeply as the animal fought its way free of the man and his need started to throb through her again. The girl twitched. She was caught and torn between her own desires, the ingrained habits that were years in the making, and the knowledge that he would mind very much if he had to live with the stale smell of the stuff in his nose for months on end. She pushed the last in his direction and he reared back, confused and angry.

Her blood was still boiling, and she wanted his warmth back. Hovering over her. Filling her up. Almost she tried to pull him back. Almost she stepped forward to feel him against her skin again. He was rumbling, and she knew he was catching her thoughts. And her struggle. She was just fortunate, or was that unfortunate, that his confusion and curiosity were overriding the lust for the moment.

"Sponges," she blurted, holding up the box. She needed something to say, and the words popped out before she could form them into better sentences. "Used and reused." She looked down and knew she was starting to reek of burnt sugar. It was still beyond embarrassing to have to deal with, much less to have to converse on. "And we are down to one set of sheets. No laundry for three days. Want to smell old dried blood, lay on it, for three days? Or let it soak into the mattress and never be gotten out? Or the couch? Or the rugs?"

She hunched her shoulders and knew she must look miserable. Her blood was cooling quickly as she outlined the possible complications. There was nothing like speaking on your intimate bodily processes to put a damper on things. Especially as you denied the other half of your being something you both wanted _badly_.

What was that phrase she'd heard before?

"Cock blocked," Riddick rumbled. At least there was some humor there. It sounded so stupid coming out of his mouth that she had to giggle. Some of the knot of tension in her stomach eased, and she was able to straighten her shoulders, if not look him in the eye. The jaguar was still pacing, but the man had it contained for now. The waif sidled up next to them both and something in him eased as she did so. Best get this over with.

She slipped out from between his bulk and the dresser and into the tiny head at the rear of the shuttle. Just a toilet and a sink really. At least the water was hot. Sometimes the hookups didn't work quite right between the shuttle and the main ship, but she was able to clean up fairly easily.

Then came the difficult and disgusting part, and she shuddered and twitched as she blocked off her mind and got it over with. Not for the first time she cursed Book's faulty God and whatever else she could think of for this debacle of internal plumbing. And then she cursed humanity as a whole for the ways they came up with to cope.

But she cursed herself worst of all when she finished and was able to take her concentration away from the stupid little sponges and the ridiculous antics needed to get them in place. She'd been singled minded about it, and her mortification had served to distract her well enough in the interim. But the minute she was done she felt it hit. Panic. Need. No small amount of hopelessness and a healthy dose of rage.

She staggered and clutched at the sink and tried to figure out what emotion came from whom. She'd only been a couple of minutes, but the dams were faulty and the waters rose quickly. Or was that fire? She didn't know. Couldn't tell. All she knew for sure was that she was miserable and embarrassed and there was only one person who could help with that. Only one point of refuge.

The door slid open with a hiss and she took the single step needed to get herself back out into the shuttle proper and bury her face in his chest. He'd been waiting, mind roiling as he tried to get past her walls while she'd been inside. His arms settled around her waist and she could tell the man was losing out to the animal as he started to lift her up. The weapon snorted and slipped back into the waters, leaving the girl to get control of herself, by herself.

"Can't," she croaked as she felt him press her hips to his. She wanted to weep. Wanted to shake her fists and rage. Wanted to reach down and yank on the little string sewn to the sponge and let him enter her instead and consequences be damned. He was growling in her ear, snarling in the jaguar's voice; and she could tell he was only half a moment from sticking his fingers in places they shouldn't go for now.

Hopeless and desperate, she shoved every last reason she had for needing to wait. She'd told him some of it before, but he willfully forgotten. Dried blood in cracks, left to tease at his nose. Dried blood on things that couldn't be cleaned. Issues of sanitation. The need to conserve water for drinking over washing things until they could make it to the next port with hook ups. And the taboo. The ingrained habit that was all she'd ever known.

The fact that as much as she wanted him. As much as she wished it otherwise, her mortification over the sponges was a tiny thing against the indoctrinated shame that would come with breaking the only real rule a woman had for life on board a ship.

He growled, and she could feel a different sort of lust rising in his mind. If he could have killed something he would have. A week. A whole fucking week of torture. Of not being able to touch. Probably not even sleep in the same bed. Just like last time.

Well. The last time he'd been around for it.

The weapon hissed down in her stream and reminded the girl that he'd left them. That she'd gone through her last bleed alone. Searching for him through her mind because he'd blocked himself off and gone to throw himself into hell. It shoved visions at her. Of her blood on her fingers. Down her arms. Her own cracked laugh as she cursed God, and him, and herself for being so weak.

The man stilled. The jaguar stopped pacing and turned to stare at her through silvered eyes. The girl shuddered and tried to push the memories away. He was back. That was what mattered. She'd found him again. They'd repaired the bond. So why did she feel like there was something vital draining from her. Like it was more than blood that she was losing along with his touch?

His hands were still around her waist. Still cupping her rear. But they gentled, and he huffed out a breath of frustration and amusement as he backed up to sit on the edge of the bed. He was still ready for her, the length of him pressing against her stomach. But the man had gotten more of a handle on the proceedings, and the animal was nosing around the girl with concern instead of demanding lust. The waif allowed it to push in under her arms where they were wrapped around her knees.

She felt him swallow the words a couple of times; jaguar still unwilling to admit defeat and man too stubborn to let it win. It comforted her some, to know that he was winning his own personal war. At least for now. Far better than letting reason fly to the winds and doing something they'd both love in the present, but probably regret in the future.

But when the rumble only built in his chest, she gave him a hard poke in the side. "Thoughts are not even clear," she snapped when he made a grab for her hand. She prodded him with the other one and he growled. "Wallow in confusion and mayhem. Tear at the mind and eat away at certainty."

He snarled and caught her other hand. She butted him in the chest with her forehead and he dropped his chin to catch her before she could pull away. Frustration and anger tore at her as he tried to make himself say the thing that went so much against his instincts. Against the will of the animal as it thrashed and roared a protest. Against the part of him that had kept the man alive and whole down in that pit, no matter the price. It knew what it wanted. It knew what she wanted too.

The weapon snarled and hissed. And what had _she_ done to keep them up and moving?

The girl pushed her away. The weapon may have gotten them functional, but she also would have left him there to rot if she'd had any other choice in the matter. And that would not do. She didn't know how she'd go on if she lost him for good. And now she had him back, she had no intention of ever giving him the chance to pull such a stunt again.

It was just…

She whimpered and clung tighter. This was the bond. Two made one in a way far more profound than love or marriage. She didn't want to give it up. Not the connection. Not the intimacy. She was still getting used to it again. Still wallowing in the pleasure of having him back. And now it was time for war again.

In her mind, the girl curled up on her side and wrapped her hands around her head. If she made herself small, made herself less of a target, maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad.

Large palms and long fingers ran up her back and held her close. She could feel the tension in them, but something in his mind had settled. The jaguar lay at her back, curled around her like a huge shield. The man knelt in front of her and gently pulled at her arms until she let him see her face. In the physical he'd tucked her head up under his chin and was breathing. Just breathing. Slow and steady.

"No war," he rumbled. Unspoken was his belief that he didn't think either of them would be able to hold out if they tortured each other purposefully, as they had the first time. And as sure as he was that he didn't really care about the blood, he wasn't so much of a bastard that he'd force her if it truly bothered her that much. He'd never forced a woman yet. He wasn't about to start now.

"Just have to manage," he continued. She tried not to let what his fingers were doing and the feel of his mind against hers distract her from the matter at hand. It was important. He'd made the animal back down. It could be done. Had been done. Would be done again.

So long as she didn't go waving raw meat in front of it.

He caught the thought and laughed, nearly crushing the air from her lungs and making her ribs creak as he squeezed her close. She coughed and gasped and tried to flail her hands. But all she managed to do was to slap him a couple of time, far lighter than it would take to get him to stop squashing her.

::_Hwoon dahn,_:: she managed to croak into his mind. ::Knows she can't breathe.::

There was more than a little of the animal looking at her through his eyes, and his grin was more definitely evil as he dug his fingers into her ribs. She yelped and thrashed and somehow got all twisted up in his grip. But he didn't stop. His legs pinned hers, one hand caught her wrists, and he set at her ribs again. She nearly squirmed free at one point, having landed a lucky shot with an elbow to the solar plexus. But she was laughing too hard to follow up on the advantage, and his pleasure at having gotten the drop on her was far better than the self-inflicted torment of the last few minutes.

Finally, only after she was wheezing and choking for air as tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks; only then did he stop and let her have her arms back. She wrapped them around his waist as he stood, burying her face back into his chest and feeling the still hard length of him press against her hips and belly once more. But the animal was tethered, the man having reassured it that she wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't leaving them. And the girl was curled up around it, soaking in just as much surety as she could pour back into it.

"No war," she whispered.

He snorted and wrapped his hands around her waist, squeezing briefly before setting her down and away. "No war," he agreed.

She slammed the walls up against the rush of desire through her veins as she got her first good look at him in the dim light. She could do this. They could do this.

It was only a few days.

~NSE~

She thought they'd make it. She really thought they would. It was never easy. There was no point at which he wasn't plotting what he was going to do to her the minute he knew she was done bleeding. She was assaulted with imaginings of her up against a wall. Her body moving over his. His over hers. All the ways he wanted to touch her. All the things he wanted her doing to him. Her mouth around his head. His mouth at her center.

It was mostly the animal. The jaguar's subconscious running rampant. The man may have had it chained down, but that didn't stop it from fighting. And every day it worked itself just a little closer to freedom. Every day the struggle between man and animal got a little more difficult.

Not that she was much help. She wanted it over as badly as him, and for every image that floated to the surface of his mind, she had one to go with it. She was beyond caring if her family found them half naked and sweaty and doing who knew what to each other. Or where they were found. She'd been beyond caring for several weeks.

But now. Now with temptation sitting right in front of her, just an arm's reach away and so far out of the realm of possibility as to be on another planet. Now she'd call them lucky if she didn't just climb right on top of him at the dinner table. She wanted to claw his shirt off. To yank at his pants and feel every inch of him. Wanted to let her mind melt into his as they repaired the foundations of the bond and poured new sections.

But she'd made her choice. Argued for it. Won. They'd agreed not to have war between them this time.

It was just that there was nothing they could do about the war within themselves.

The crew noticed of course. For one thing, there weren't near as many odd noises to be heard at random times and in random corners of the ship. Mal was no longer in danger of coming into one of the cargo holds and finding them there. Or in the engine room. Or the bridge or the galley or anywhere else they could get a bit of privacy for a moment or two. Although, in truth, they'd been managing to make it back to the shuttle or one of the passenger dorms more and more often as of late. But those first couple weeks back on board…

Of course, seeing how they'd been discovered in that darkened hall down in the complex, covered in blood and grit and her still sitting with him inside her…the crew had been taking all the debauchery fairly well. Sierra had gotten more of an education than her mother would have liked, but that had been going on as long as she was big enough to toddle into the engine room and interrupt Simon and Kaylee. Or wander through the half open door of a shuttle and find Inara undoing Mal's buttons.

No. It wasn't easy. It was torture. But she'd honestly thought they'd make it. Because for all the lack of physicality, they had something else to fall back on. The bond. The foundation. The knowledge and certainty that they were matched in their misery as they were in everything else. The bone deep feeling that there was someone else who knew what they were going through. Someone else who knew what they were feeling.

And that was almost their undoing, a time or two. It was still so fresh. Still such a relief to have the bond back. Even though it had been a few weeks since it had been reconnected; she was still in such awe of the fact that they'd been able to repair it in the first place that she almost lost her resolve.

Being wrapped up in his mind was glorious. And taking refuge in the tree with the jaguar curled up around her and the man sitting behind her did wonders for the worries she still didn't want to admit. Worries of losing him again. Fear that if something else ever came up that he might think it was his place to go throw himself in the jaws of the beast. Again.

But she still wanted to be touching him. Wanted to run her fingers over his skin the same was she was running them through the jaguar's fur. Wanted to feel his hands over her, kneading out knots of tension the way the man did when she got herself so wound up with denial and self-loathing that her mind went blank and gray. But she knew one thing would lead to another, and all the resolve in the 'Verse wouldn't be enough if and when the chain finally snapped.

It was Inara who suggested the solution. Or what she thought was the solution. After two days of the ordeal, the Companion had come up to the girl where she was perched on a crate and coughed lightly. And then again. It wasn't until she touched the girl's knee and nearly got kicked for her trouble that she managed to draw her attention.

It was hard, but River had torn her eyes away from Riddick where he was working in the makeshift gym and looked down at the woman. She wanted to hit her. Wanted to lash out and demand to know what she thought she was doing.

And then she caught the thoughts in her mind and realized she knew exactly what she was doing. And why.

"Apologies," she'd whispered, hanging her head and twisting her fingers together. "The girl was distracted."

Inara had looked over to where Riddick was standing. He'd stopped pounding on the bag hanging from underneath the stairs and was watching them, expression carefully blank. River knew his mind was anything but.

"It's ok River. I just wanted to ask a question." The girl could feel it in the woman's mind, but waited till she spoke anyways. "Have you tried meditating?" Inara raised a hand before the automatic answer could pop out of her young friend's mouth and sent a glare in Riddick's direction that could have melted steel.

He'd made it halfway across the space between them in less time than it had taken the Companion to finish the sentence. His face looked like murder, and River could feel the animal's denial in her mind. It still remembered the first time she'd meditated, back when they'd first had the bond. She'd almost died. And then she'd used it to torture him during their first war.

The animal didn't even like the word.

But the intention in her friend's head wasn't for her to go swimming the River for information. Or to taunt. She truly thought it might help. She'd been watching them after all. The refusal to let each other out of sight wasn't new. They'd been doing it since they'd come back aboard the ship. But the minimal touches. The distinct lack of carnal noises coming from the shuttle or who knew where else. That had been what tipped her off.

That and the fact that they were both watching each other like predators waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

River sighed and looked over at Riddick. He was wound tight enough into her mind that he was probably catching a good bit of what she was getting from Inara. And she knew that the Companion was very lucky to be who she was at that moment. If it had been Simon who suggested meditation, no matter how well intentioned he may have been, well. He'd need the services of his own infirmary. But Inara was full of genuine concern and worry, and sincerely hoped the suggestion would help. And the girl knew Riddick could smell the sincerity as well.

She waited a moment, thinking it over. She had to look away from Riddick though. He was standing there, self-contained frustration almost a palpable force rolling off him. His shirt was plastered to his chest; his skin gleaming with sweat from the extent of the workout he'd been giving himself. One hand was hooked into his belt where a blade usually rested. The other was much closer to the snap of his pants. How he was ignoring the fact that he was visibly ready to just drop trou and take her was a mystery she couldn't tease from his mind. How Inara was ignoring it was both more and less amazing.

Her insides cramped again, and she nearly doubled over at the sudden pain of it. She didn't know if it was the tension or her bodily processes, but this week had been worse than she remembered. She wanted to cry. Why did her body have to betray her like this? Why couldn't she chase Inara out of the hold and let herself be dragged over to the weight bench so it could be put to a better use?

A snarl ripped through the air and Riddick's face twisted as he caught the thought. She hauled on the waters of the stream, yanking them up to drown them both before he could take the last couple steps and either do something horrible to Inara or yank the clothes from the girl's body.

That did it.

River leaned down to kiss Inara on the top of the head, doing her best to send as much gratitude and thanks and reassurance in the woman's direction as she could. Then she swung her legs out and hopped off the crates. "Many thanks," she whispered to the woman, trying not to wince as her innards made their opinion known about all the activity. "She will see if recentering will help."

Riddick was a wall of warmth and concern and desire at her back as she headed for the stairs. She could feel his mind twisting. Hoping this wouldn't go wrong. That she wouldn't drop too far into the trance. That she wouldn't leave him.

Mixed in with all the worry was a healthy dose of lust as he stared at her legs and _pi gu_ as he watched her climb the stairs ahead of him. Somewhere inside, the weapon sighed. What was he going to do? Sit and watch her while she sat and tried to breathe evenly? That would be as much help as dousing a fire in fuel.

The girl was just concentrating on not running. Running meant prey. Running would kick the animal loose. Running meant he'd chase her, whether it was a conscious choice or not. Only a few more days. Just a few more days and then she could run and hide and he could hunt and feast and…

He rumbled behind her, a hand ghosted down her calf, and the animal gave another heave at the end of its tether. She could feel the man wrestling it back, but it was getting harder and harder every time. Days of this left. Of temptation and impossibility. She bit back a whimper and wrapped the waif a little more firmly around the animal as she keyed the code for the shuttle door and slipped inside.

But she got a surprise when she went to arrange herself on a cushion at the foot of the bed. A knee in her back, a hand on her shoulder, and he was scooting her forward so that she was no longer sitting up against the edge of the mattress. Startled, she turned around and blinked at him. He'd stripped off the damp shirt, damn him anyways, and was edging himself down to sit behind her, legs surrounding her with warmth and hard muscle.

"What," she started, but he clamped a hand over her mouth and buried his face in her shoulder as he muscled the animal down again. She drew on the stream, entirely without thought, and it helped a little bit.

In her mind she tried again, hunting for the reason that was hidden behind smoke and flames and the struggle he was having to keep the animal from taking over. The man met her eyes with a cold gaze and the animal went down into a crouch as if it were about to pounce. She clamped her mental mouth shut too.

"It's breathing, right," he muttered into her shoulder, sending shudders of desire along her nerve endings. The vanilla in her nose, a constant presence so long as she was wrapped so tightly around the animal, increased threefold. "Breath and heart rate. Control."

She nodded dumbly and tried not to scoot backwards and straight into his lap. So warm. So strong. So very much alive and not insane in the halls of an underground complex of horror and fear.

His fingers slid down her arms and engulfed her hands, and she swallowed at the sensations his touch set off inside of her. As privately as possible, she wondered if this was the brightest idea he'd ever had.

But he caught the thought and laughed as the animal rumbled a protest. "What," he whispered in her ear. "Think I've never done this before? Fucking months of it," he hitched her closer and leaned back against the bed. "What else is there to do when you're stuck awake in cryo?"

She caught a drift of thought, something to the effect of using it to hide from sensors, and shook her head. She should have remembered. Should have realized that the absolute control he was so fond of had to come from somewhere.

But she didn't comment. There really wasn't anything else to say. So she reached for the bond, for the tree and the jaguar that paced at the end of its chain. It followed her as she clambered through the roots and up in to the branches and settled herself between the knees of the man where he lounged and waited for her. The weapon slid from her stream and came to sit among the huge spreading roots, and with the last of her higher consciousness she set her heart beat to match his as they slipped into well of her soul.

**Author's Note: **Hey hey all. I am still working on this. And about six other things as well. Life has been crazy and I've been wallowing, so the writing/editing chances haven't been presenting themselves as they could.

That said, many many thanks to Shenandoa76209 for being my sounding board and pretty much betaing this whole thing for me. Her suggestions have been a great help!

As for this chapter…well just because Riddick's still putting himself back together after the total mental break he had at the end of HHYFN doesn't mean River's not trying to do the same. Neither one of them handled any of it very well. And yes, I do write things rate M. Not for salaciousness. But for actual maturity. Women bleed kiddos. And it screws with our lives something awful. Personal preferences and whatnot aside, the opportunity to use to mess with River and Riddick can't be passed up. Especially since I've already done it once and it'd be kinda stupid to completely ignore the fact that she's going to end up bleeding again. And again…

Shenandoah76209: Hah! I finally finished the email of doom! So now I can be evil and post more stories! And hopefully write them! Ha!

Rachet: You're welcome!

Guineverekay: Glad you like it! Kaylee tased him on accident. She was going for the guy who was threatening her and Riddick was in just the wrong place at just the right time.

Translations:

_ta ma de-_ Mother fucker

_Jen dao mei-_ Just our luck

_Hwoon dahn-_ bastard

_pi gu- _ass


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